Sometimes it Lasts in Love
by nlizzette7
Summary: Because where there's a Blair who loves Chuck, there is a Leighton who loves Ed. Now a multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

She's memorized the way his lips taste – _honey smoke and soft hellos._

She knows the tilt of his voice when his accent comes out, and the way he coughs when he makes a mistake.

She knows his faces, every one of them. The happy and sad.

Because where there's a Blair who loves Chuck, there is a Leighton who loves Ed.

And maybe it's killing her.

:::

Leighton knows right away. Blair can have the preppy boy with the golden hair. Leighton wants _him_.

As she reads her lines and plays her scene, she keeps her eyes on dark hair and smoldering eyes.

_And is she crazy, or is he staring back?_

She tries to push it away, tries to focus on what she's there for. – _Big breaks, name in lights, Leighton Leighton Leighton _–

No more sunburned boys in beat-up convertibles looking to get lucky.

She's not in Florida.

Not anymore.

But she finds herself falling anyway, convincing herself that it's no big deal. She starts to snatch her script away when they hand them out. And her head tells her no, but her eyes look for _ChuckandBlair _anyway.

And she starts to love it.

She decides to keep that secret. She decides that she – _she means Blair, of course_ – actually loves Chuck. Leighton decides that's how the story goes.

And she falls in love with that too.

But one day it slips. They're all sitting around the big table with the writers, spitting out silly ideas, chewing their nails.

_"I think Bart should be Gossip Girl."_

_"Serena should end up being a guy."_

And Leighton's, "Maybe Chuck and Blair should be together."

The table is silent. Leighton's cheeks burn red, and she wants to clap her hand over her mouth, but she doesn't. She just sits there and burns. Just sits there and regrets. Until –

"I think that's brilliant," Ed says. Leighton glances up at him, and he's got his eyes set straight on her. _Brilliant brilliant brilliant. _His lips curl into a smile. And soon everyone thinks it's brilliant.

The best plot twist ever.

And soon there is Chuck and Blair.

:::

Before the limo scene, Blair locks herself in her dressing room, presses her face against the mirror there. Closes her eyes.

_It's just a show. Another part. Another role._

And she's supposed to be thinking about Chuck, but she reads the lines to Ed. And their first kiss feels like her first kiss.

_Fire._

She thinks that maybe they're just really good actors, you know? She thinks chemistry can just be made up.

Right?

She repeats the words to herself long after they yell cut and the crew leaves and Ed looks at her one last time before grabbing a cab home.

She repeats the words to herself in bed that night, fingers tracing over her lips, eyes closed.

_Not real, not real, not real._

:::

And they must have kissed a thousand times, spent weeks of playing Chuck and Blair's twisted games, and Leighton can only think _Ed Ed Ed. _

But season one ends, like everything does. They wrap the last scene, and it break's Leighton's heart. [_No, she means Blair. It breaks Blair's heart._]

She doesn't know what they are without Chuck and Blair. She doesn't know if they're anything at all.

The cast throws a party, and people trickle out after that. They bid farewell to their friends, go their separate ways. Life doesn't stray too far from reality at all.

Leighton stares at the dirty and empty party room, picks up a stray script from the floor. She flips through the pages, shaking her head.

"Leigh, you alright?" he asks her. He sits down next to her, right on the floor, and she thinks about all of the moments they've shared that year – between scenes and during breaks and as Chuck and Blair – almost like the real thing,

Almost.

"Yeah," she says. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine," he says, tipping a finger under her chin. It's a friendly gesture. Probably nothing. _Could be anything_.

"It's just…" she starts, staring down at the script in her hands. "It can't end like this."

"No," he replies. "It can't." But he's not looking at the script. Ed is staring at Leighton. He places his hand on the empty space between them, leans over. He kisses her cheek, slides his lips to her chin, whispers against her lips before kissing her.

And even though they've kissed _one thousand _times, this is their first.

It is familiar.

It is strange.

_It's too much too soon too dangerous._

Leighton breaks away, gasping for air. She shakes her head, looks straight forward.

"Leighton," he whispers, tugging her arm. "What's wrong? Don't you feel it?"

She nods, fighting the tears, shutting her eyes tight.

"I do."

He smiles and leans in to kiss her again, but she stops him. She pulls away.

"But we're not them," she says, standing up. "I'm not Blair."

"I know you're not – " he starts, but she can't hear him. She's running. She's running from fear, running from heartbreak, running from love.

And maybe they screwed up, those casting directors.

Because all summer, as she runs away, as she doesn't see him, she thinks that she's more like Chuck than Ed will ever be.

:::

And the next three years don't change a thing.

They fall in love, and she hates it. She hates Ed's eyes breaking through Chuck's. She hates that he's talking to her, not Blair, when he reads his lines.

They put on a show, pretend to be perfect, and Leighton gets all she ever wanted. _Big breaks, name in lights, Leighton Leighton Leighton. _But not Ed.

No, not Ed.

They play a twisted game, and she thinks he starts to hate her too. In interviews he says that he's in love with her. And they laugh it off like it's one big joke. During kissing scenes, he'll bite her lip or sneak his hand to the skin of her waist.

He reminds her that he's Ed when she tries to forget.

"You can't do this," she says one night, after the scene in Blair's apartment. _Three words, eight letters. Say it._

"Say it," he says. They're in the prop room, and it's dank and dark. He's got her pressed against the wall, hands on either side of her head.

"Say what?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

"You love me."

"No."

"You feel it, too."

"_No._"

"You – "

"I'm dating Sebastian."

They break each other's hearts that way. They ruin each other that way.

He does it when he dates Jessica, when he goes out on drunken stupors with Chace, when he won't talk to her if she's not Blair.

She does it when she kisses Sebastian, when she glances at him between takes, when she whispers his name, hidden under "Chuck."

:::

And then this happens:

Paris.

_The city of lights. The city of love. _And Ed and Leighton are there together. Things are over with Sebastian and Jessica. [_It never really lasts long when you're in love with someone else_]. And Blair is in a beautiful red dress, and Chuck is in a button down that makes him look beautiful.

But when they cry, they cry as Leighton and Ed. For each other.

_It wouldn't be my world without you in it_.

That night, Leighton knocks on the door of Ed's hotel room – the one right next to hers.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"I just wanted to…"

"I know."

He pulls her in. He's drowning, and he's dragging her down with him. They fall to the bed, to the floor. His lips drag across her skin, teeth scraping her neck. She closes her eyes, lets herself float. Her nails down his back, his fingers tangling in her hair.

And she knows this will be over in the morning.

She knows what happens next.

So she might as well,

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

They pant it together, a whispered chorus, a stolen moment. Chuck and Blair, Leighton and Ed. _Is there a difference?_

Shit.

When it's over, Ed presses his face to her shoulder. They breathe together as Leighton runs her fingers over his damp skin. She closes her eyes.

"Maybe in the future…" she whispers.

_Maybe if they hadn't started off playing pretend._

:::

The show ends.

Six years, and they're not kids anymore. Six years, and now they're awake.

Leighton does all she can to postpone the wedding scene. Her dress "accidentally" gets caught on a hook, her allergies surface, her head hurts. But it has to come.

And it does.

She sees him running down those stairs, and she imagines it's real. This could be them. Because really, this story became theirs a long time ago. _Three words, eight letters. Three letters, one word. _Yes.

And then he does something that makes the rest of them falter. A little addition that was never meant to be there, and Leighton doesn't know whether to hit him or hug him. Because now they all know.

"I love you," he whispers against her lips.

_But that wasn't in the script._

:::

"That's a wrap," they call, and everyone cheers. Everyone cries.

Leighton's eyes meet Ed's over the crowd.

After the madness, they find each other like they did on that first empty night. They sit down in the middle of it all. They sit in silence. They remember together.

"As of now," he says, smiling, "you're not Blair Waldorf. You're Leighton Meester, and I still love you."

She nods, smiling down at the ground.

"This story was ours, wasn't it?" she says. "I was wrong all along." He nods, pulling her closer, kissing her forehead. He slides his hand down to grab hers.

"We both were," he says. She digs her face into his chest, breathes him in, closes her eyes.

"But now…" she whispers.

"Now?"

She lifts her lips to his ear.

"I love you, too."

:::

She's memorized the way his lips taste – _honey smoke and soft hellos._

She knows the tilt of his voice when his accent comes out, and the way he coughs when he makes a mistake.

She knows his faces, every one of them. The happy and sad.

Because where there's a Blair who loves Chuck, there is a Leighton who loves Ed.

And maybe it saved her life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dedicated to Marie, who badgered me to repost this until I finally gave in. I can't promise that I'll update this weekly, but I was convinced to put up the chapters I had deleted and continue it on for a little while. And, of course, I do love my Leighted.**

* * *

She gets the call at 2 AM, one month after everything was supposed to end.

One month after faux wedding vows and CW premieres. One month after the final "cut."

But nothing ever really ends with them, not really.

They hadn't spoken since then. She'd been a coward on the day of their wrap-up party, she'd left him there, swearing she'd come back. False promises and fear and running – _always _running. That's all Leighton was.

:::

She blinks awake, shifts under her duvet before reaching for her phone in the darkness. His name blinks on her screen, and it doesn't feel real.

She's taken his calls so many times in the past six years.

_Ready for the wedding scene tonight?_

_Get your ass back to New York._

_I picked up your favorite smoothie, you wanker._

But now, there's no real reason to call, no excuse to skirt around. Just the grogginess in his voice when he answers.

"Leighton," he murmurs, "I couldn't sleep."

"Oh," she replies. She can't think of anything more eloquent to say. Years of Victrola and pianos and sex and limos and confessions and engagements.

And all she can come up with is, _oh._

"Didn't wake you, did I?" he asks.

"No," she lies, "not at all. How are you?" She sits up in bed now, imagining that he's _right _there, in her room with her. She closes her eyes and sees messy hair, a toothy grin.

Ed takes a breath, like he's about to answer her. But instead, he says, "I saw those pictures."

She shuts her eyes, and she remembers.

She remembers a summer with Aaron Himelstein, her bearded fling. She remembers drunken days at the beach, kissing him with her eyes closed.

Because the darkness is _just _as dark that way.

Because, with her eyes closed, she can see Ed.

"You saw the pictures," she repeats.

"What the fuck, Leighton?" he hisses into the phone, his harsh breath in her ear.

"I didn't – "

"Do you love him?" he asks. And she wonders how the show became her reality. Leighton, Blair. Ed, Chuck. Himelstein, Humphrey.

But there's no director there to yell _cut_.

"I don't," she sighs. "I don't love him."

_She loves Ed._

There's a silence, and she wonders if he's still there. She listens for his breathing with a limp hand on her heart. And then, so quietly she almost misses it, he says, "Are you alone?"

She nods before she realizes that he's not really _there_, that he can't actually see her. "Yes. I'm alone, but – "

"I'll be there," he says. Just like that.

"You're in New York?" she asks, completely breathless.

But he's already hung up the phone.

:::

She makes him tea when he comes over. His clothes and hair are soaked from the rain outside, and she tells him to dry off while the pot is brewing. She closes her eyes, steadying herself against the counter. What can she say to him?

_I'm sorry that I – _

_I wish that I could – _

But nothing is good enough, and she is not good enough for him.

"Tea ready yet?" he asks, startling her. He standing there with his button down shirt open. She keeps her eyes on his chest, the way he breathes, and it holds her together.

"Not yet," she replies.

He nods, looks at her like he wants to say something else. There are so many words up in the air between them. _I'm sorry, I miss you, how could you, I love you._

_I love you so much._

Leighton's chest is tight, and the tension in the air overwhelms her. She has to do something. She has to –

Ed comes over to her like he feels it too. He pushes her against the counter, and he presses her lips to hers so hard that it almost hurts. Fingers press into skin, hair is tugged, boundaries are pushed.

It's the only way to _feel_. It's not quite romance, but it's not quite hatred.

It's pain and loss and it doesn't have to be that way.

But it is.

And they stay that way, forcing each other to remember. They barely breathe and the clothes disappear and it happens over and over again.

Long after the kettle whistles, and the tea is ready to drink.

:::

They hide after that.

All Leighton can think of is Monte Carlo, season six. Reading the script, she hadn't known how Chuck and Blair could just live in that room, could just be with each other without _suffocating_.

But now she knows.

Over the days, the harshness fades, and they remember why they fell in love. A part of one is always touching the other: a brush of a hand, a leg hooked over thighs, and head on a chest.

They talk until the sunlight dwindles, then rises again. They eat together and shower together and exist together.

They do not let go.

And they do not leave.

:::

"I was scared," she finally admits between heavy pants, after the stars in her eyes fade, after he lies down beside her.

"What are you so afraid of?" he whispers into her hair.

"Of _you_," she says, throwing her hands up. "Every other guy is so simple. Everything else is so easy. But you and I, we fell into a dark love. It's our love, but it's also theirs. The scripts ran out, they can't write _us _a happy ending." She feels it so strongly, and it's good to say the truth out loud. He consumes her, he is _everything. All of the time. _But half of their story belongs to Chuck and Blair.

Half of their story feels like it's not theirs at all.

"Leighton, I've told you that this is _real_," he insists, holding her face in his big hands. And she feels like crying because he is so beautiful. And his words are too perfect.

And she's going to ruin him.

"Just hold on," he says. "Just hold on to us." She reaches for his hand in the darkness, feels her heart pang in protest.

She'll try.

But she doesn't know. And she doesn't promise this time. She doesn't want to break another one.

She doesn't want to break him again.

So she just nods, folding her fingers between his, staring up at her ceiling.

"I'll try."

:::

But moments are only temporary.

They're fragile.

It only takes one second, one turn of events, one missed call.

To completely shatter everything.

:::

"Leigh, you're out of milk," Ed calls from the kitchen. She frowns into the pillow, wrapping the bed sheets tighter around herself.

"I'm out of everything," she replies. Leighton opens her eyes, and outside the daylight is fleeting. She groans, knowing how screwed up this is. They can only be together in this solitude, in this isolation from the rest of the world. Her computer is unplugged, her landline is disconnected, and her cell phone is out of charge.

But she has to wake up.

Leighton rolls out of bed, pulling her hair pack and scanning the carpet.

"God. What a fucking mess," she whispers to herself, dodging takeout containers and an ice cream cartoon. She finally spots her phone in the corner of the room, the screen abandoned and black. She plugs it into the wall, sitting next to it until it lights up again.

Seventeen missed calls.

Thirty-two text messages.

Ninety-six emails.

_Leighton, you were scheduled for two interviews this week. Call me now._

_We've sent three messengers to your apartment. Where the hell are you?_

_Leigh, this is Chace. Have you heard from Ed? He just sort of disappeared._

Leighton closes her eyes and smiles.

"What's up?" Ed asks, walking into the room. He balances a tray in his hands. A makeshift breakfast for her. And she wonders how he manages to be so perfect.

"Just checking on the real world," she shrugs.

"And _why_," he asks, leaning over to kiss her forehead, "would you want to do that?"

Leighton laughs, digging her face into his shoulder. "Because I'd like to _keep _my job."

He sits down next to her on the floor, tracing patterns on her knee, popping one of the grapes from the tray into her mouth.

"We can act here," he whispers. "For each other. We don't need cameras or directors or light teams. I have you." Leighton leans into his touch. As if that could ever happen. All she loved was Ed.

But to love and to need were two different things.

As they eat, she puts her voicemail on speaker. They laugh at the irritated voices, at her agent's dramatic shrieks.

And then,

_Leighton, hey. This is, um, this is Sebastian. I hadn't heard from you in a while, and I wanted to hear your voice. I miss you, and I'm back in New York. I think we should get together. Like last time. Call me._

:::

Silence.

Ed pushes the tray away, Leighton bites at her nail. The spark in the air is fading away and nothing seems that romantic anymore.

"Damn it, Leighton," he mutters under his breath.

"I'm sorry."

"Why is he even calling you?" he asks. He pauses, turns to her. "What did he mean by last time?"

"This summer…I went to see him in LA," she replies, staring down at the ground. "After I ended things with Aaron."

"So, what?" Ed asks. "Where does that leave us?"

Leighton lifts the phone, staring hard at it before putting it back down.

"I have to talk to him," she decides. "I can't just leave him hanging without any explanation."

"Yeah," Ed says. "Nobody deserves to be left like that." He gets up, shaking his head. He grabs the breakfast tray and leaves the room.

"Fuck," Leighton whispers to herself, staring at his retreating form. She rakes her fingers through her hair, almost pulling.

"I'm going out," he calls. Leighton flinches as something drops into the kitchen sink, and she hears the sound of clothes being pulled on. She gets up from the floor, goes out to the hallway in time to see Ed shrugging his jacket over his shoulders. Leighton leans against the wall, watching him.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my apartment. To check the mail, my phone, you know," he mumbles, barely looking at her. "You were right. Back to reality." He puts his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave until she comes behind him. She wraps her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. She kisses the nape of his neck, and they both close their eyes.

"I love you," he finally says.

"I love you too," she replies, hugging him tighter.

He nods, pulls away to open the door. "But it takes more than that, Leigh."

:::

She meets Sebastian at a Starbucks downtown. The paparazzi are in prime form today, and she has to shield her eyes from the flashes.

_Leighton, is it true that you'll be taking a break from acting?_

_What about you and Ed? Are the rumors true?_

_Leighton – _

"Leighton?" Sebastian calls, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the crowd. The cameras go crazy, and she can't wait to see what the captions will read on the tabloids.

This was such a mistake.

He buys them two cups of coffee, and they make their way to Central Park. It's awkward at first. They keep a safe distance from each other as they walk.

"I have to tell you something," they say at the same time. Leighton pauses, smiling.

"You can go first," she says.

"Right, well, I cut a big deal. Three films, based in New York," he says. "I'm moving back here. For a while." Leighton nods, trying to put it together in her head. It isn't what she had been expecting. Not at all.

"That's amazing, Seb," she says. "That's honestly great."

"Well," he says, taking his hand in hers. "It brought me closer to you." Leighton sighs, squeezing his hand before pulling away.

"Sebastian…"

"Uh oh," he says. "That doesn't sound like excitement."

"That's actually what I wanted to tell you. Ed and I…" she says. The words sound strange when she says them out loud.

"So it finally happened," Sebastian smirked, shoving his hands into his coat pocket. "I can't say that I'm surprised."

"We're trying to make it work," she states.

"And this has nothing to do with the show?" he asks. "How do you know that this isn't another role that he's playing?"

Leighton frowns. "It isn't. You know Ed. We all know Ed."

"And I know that Ed dated Jessica just to spite you," Sebastian argues. "He parties more than anyone else on the cast did, and then he plays the nice guy."

"He _is _the nice guy," Leighton says. "Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm just saying," Sebastian says. "Carter and Blair were never a couple. I didn't need some storyline to make me realize that I was in love with you."

"Sebastian – "

"But enough of that," he interrupts, smiling at her again. "I say that we get out of this cold, grab a drink, and head back to your place."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Come on, Leigh. Just for old time's sake," he pleads, tugging her arm. "As friends. I swear."

"Fine," she says, almost instantly regretting it. "But only as friends."

:::

One drink becomes three.

Leighton loses track of time. She loses talk of everything as they joke around and recall stupid memories. They play old music and watch TV reruns.

And Leighton remembers an easier love.

One that's not so passionate, one that's not so _real_. But one that's easier to manage.

They end up on the sofa. Sebastian lights up a cigarette, pulling Leighton's legs onto his lap. In a tipsy haze, she lets him.

"You shouldn't smoke those things," she says. "They'll kill you."

"It's not the only thing that'll kill me," he whispers, eyes raking over her body. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that your _boyfriend _has a bad smoking habit, if I remember correctly."

"He quit," Leighton replies, shifting in her seat. But Sebastian doesn't listen to her. He's leaning over, he's pressing against her, his hands are sliding up her leg. And suddenly, Leighton feels too hot.

The alcohol is weighing down her body, and she wants him away. She needs a second to breathe. But he's everywhere.

"Sebastian, I don't – "

"Shh," he whispers. "We both want this."

But she doesn't.

His lips come down on hers, and it's familiar. But he tastes like alcohol. And regret. She turns, feeling Ed's face in her head.

But it's not in her head.

It's real. Eyes full of pain, mouth turned down, standing by the door.

Leighton sits up, pushing Sebastian away.

"Ed?"

:::

Moments are only temporary.

They're fragile.

It only takes one second, one turn of events, one missed call.

To completely shatter everything.


End file.
